Mirror Images
by checkerboxed
Summary: [Oneshot LJ] Lily is kidnapped one night by a certain James Potter, and she's not exactly happy about this. And what is so special about this stupid mirror?


note: Someone pointed out to me that this fic resembles, in many ways, Procrastinator-starting-2moro's fic, _Mirror Mirror_. This was entirely coincidental, but I wrote her a note and it is totally fine with her that _Mirror Images_ stays up. So thanks to CuriousEyes for pointing it out!

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**Mirror Images  
­_checkerboxed_**

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disclaimer: everything but the plot isn't mine.  
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She's being kidnapped.

This could be the only explanation as to why strong arms had picked her up from behind, a hand covering her mouth to keep her quiet, and that voice in her ear, whispering, telling her to keep silent. She hasn't struggled.

Still, she's really really nervous. She hasn't gotten a good look at the face of the man who's got a hold of her, because every time she glances up he jumps a little in his walk and breaks her concentration. The only thing she's noticed is that he's wearing glasses. But this doesn't help, because, as she figures, half the population in this school wears glasses. She doesn't even know what color his hair is; it's dark, and that's all she knows.

She cranes her head to the side, trying to get her bearings. They are moving down an unfamiliar hall, somewhere on the highest floors, probably, because the lights here are dim, and she hasn't seen a single person pass them by. This is not a comforting thought. Thankfully, she knows her wand is still stuck in her pocket; she can use it if she has to. Right now, she can't reach it. But she could get it if she really needs it.

Her captor's footsteps slow, and they turn a corner, and then suddenly her legs are being lowered so she can stand. She tries to turn, but a hand on her shoulder keeps her facing toward the door in front of them. Unsure, she stands completely still.

"Open the door," he whispers, his voice disconcertingly close to her ear. She shivers involuntarily at the way his breath ghosts across her neck, and then reaches for the door handle. Turning the cool metal hesitantly, she pushes open the door and lets it swing open.

Without thinking, she steps forward, peering into the room. It's lit from the large glass windows that grace the far wall, and from what she can tell, it's just an empty classroom. Confused, she takes a few more steps forward. Then, thinking quickly, she reaches for her wand and then whirls around, wand raised.

She reels back in shock at the face of her kidnapper, wondering how she didn't put two and two together. His glasses, dark hair… the only boy she knew with raven-black hair and glasses like those was the only boy she ever really hated; it _would_ be James Potter.

She nearly growls in frustration, more at herself than him. She had been so nervous, worried for her safety, when all the time it had been only _him_. How foolish.

"Why are we here?" she forces out, her voice low and dangerous. There is nothing that makes her madder than feeling stupid.

He says nothing, studying her face for a moment. Then he clears his throat and closes the door they came through. "I wanted to know something."

"No, I don't want to go to Hogsmeade with you." The words are comforting, familiar, and they take the edge off her anger. She sinks back into this comfort, letting it cure her of anger. Then she regards him.

Nothing in his face betrays emotion, but his hands tell the story. They are clenched at his side, so tight his knuckles are white. Then he notices her gaze and shoves them behind his back. "That wasn't what I brought you here for," he says coolly, and before she can reply with something like _I'm not a whore, either_, he's pushing her toward the center of the room.

And that's when she notices that there's a tall object in the center. When she gets closer, she realizes that it's a mirror. The glass is foggy from age, and the writing above it is difficult to read, and in Latin, but it's most definitely a mirror. She glances at it inquisitively for a moment, then turns toward Potter, one eyebrow raised. "And this is…?"

"— the Mirror of Erised," he tells her, and then stops. "Go on, look into it." He makes slight shooing motions with his hands.

She moves to stand in front of the mirror, glancing back towards her would-be kidnapper several times in confusion. But then she's finally looking in the mirror and life has just become ten times more confusing.

Because, standing next to her in the mirror, is James Potter.

But that can't be right, she thinks, because he's over there. Not anywhere he could be reflected in the mirror, and definitely not right next to her. Or… brushing her hair back behind her ear.

Her real self stumbles away from the view of the mirror, blinking. This is ridiculous. Obviously this mirror is enchanted to show one's self with whoever happens to be in the room with one. Obviously. She turns to Potter, biting her bottom lip, unsure whether she should be angry or disdainful.

"Is this supposed to impress me?" she asks, leaning against the wall. All of a sudden she's feeling strange, like she's had some sort of epiphany— but she hasn't. But her heart's beating really fast and she knows it's not from any fast movement or fear. She doesn't know what it's from. Despite this, she maintains her look of confused disdain.

He regards her with interest. "What did you see?"

"Well," she says, "You know…" She feels, somehow, that her answer is important. How, she has no idea. So she says nothing more than this.

He moves past her toward the mirror, staring at the reflection for a few long moments. Then he turns toward her. "Tell me."

She fidgets under his gaze, wondering what exactly her reasoning is for, well, anything. There is no reason not to tell Potter what she saw; it won't change anything, nor will it be of any consequence at all. So her hesitation confuses her. Angry at herself, and at him for bringing her here, she turns away. "I'm leaving. This is a waste of my time."

Suddenly he's moved so that he's blocking the door. "No," he tells her firmly, grasping her shoulder lightly and moving her so that she's backed up against the wall. "I want to know what you saw."

She sighs, shaking her head. "It's just a stupid mirror. It was just you in the mirror. Obviously it's some mirror charmed to show you the last person you saw." She pauses. "What do you see?"

His face is breaking out is a wide, wide smile. He's moving closer so that Lily can see the deep gold flecks woven in the hazel of his eyes. "It's anything _but_ a stupid mirror, Evans. It's very powerful," he says, leaning forward so he can whisper in her ear. "It shows us…" he pulls back enough so that his nose is just brushing hers, his mouth teasingly close to her own lips.

"…our deepest…" Reaching up, he runs a hand through her hair, eyes never leaving hers. His breath is running over her mouth, and she's having trouble breathing on her own. She licks her lips, and then she turns bright red when his eyes flick down at her mouth.

Then he's back at her ear, whispering, "…most desperate… _desires_."

Her eyes go wide with shock. Then she shakes her head again. "That can't be right," she says, and stops when Potter brushes his lips against the base of her jaw. She's finding it increasingly difficult to talk, or even _think_ because he's being bloody distracting. Her breath, or what's left of it, hitches in her throat.

He grins up at her. "Yes," he whispers, "It's most definitely right," and then he's pressed his lips to hers and she thinks she's died and gone to heaven.

Because the rumors are most definitely true. James Potter is a very very good kisser.

She's got a nagging voice in the back of her mind that is telling her she ought to push him away, or something ridiculous like that, but it's very faint, and hard to hear over the racing thud of her heartbeat. Instead, she immerses herself in the kiss, trailing her hands up his arms to wrap around his neck, burying her fingers in his hair.

He's busy running hands up and down her spine, which is inducing shivers up and down her back. And when he pulls back a moment for air, she finds herself pushing her head forward to follow his mouth, reluctant to let go of the taste of his lips. He chuckles a bit, deep in his throat. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this," he tells her, punctuating his words with feathery kisses across her jawline.

She exhales slowly. "I can guess."

He grins at her, his fingers exploring the dip at the base of her neck. He pauses. "You're mine now," he says, "right?" She knows that despite his collected look, he's just as nervous as she is.

So she answers him the only way she knows how.

And when she pulls back, they're both breathing heavily and grinning. "I'll take that as a yes," he says, and wraps his arms around her waist so he can kiss her again.

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